First you are non-existent then you are invisible

Halloween is SOON.
I want an amalgamation of all the above in a costume. I am having a party, I want to dress my house!

I want to talk about maxi and midi skirts. I just think they were not appropriate for summer. I wear them NOW in AUTUMN, with long socks (possibly belonging to my brother but that's neither here nor there) and boots. Boom. My usual winter wardrobe, rife with clunky jeans, black tights, shapeless jumpers is just not becoming at all. At least now I look MODERATELY ladylike, plus, tell me if you wear maxi skirts you don't pretend to be a can-can girl on your own in front of the mirror? So sexy. Despite the dragging, demure hemline. I AM SO RIGHT ABOUT THIS.

So this happened today...

Awkward. I think I'm such a badman, going into Primark despite my ethical misgivings, (also that it is cheap and everyone buys the same stuff), then my favourite Urban Outfitters employee Natalie Horobin does the same and we look like dickheads sat next to each other in our Post-Colonial Literature lecture with tweed- panelled boots.

So sexy. My student loan has been completely dicked away on Barry M nail varnish and clothes I buy on e bay that never quite fit right like a fool.

My writing is irritating me, I apologise for this.

I’m so very tired,

I need to rest,

But I sleep all day and all night,

My head leant on a hand on a windowsill.

I imagine that in that room straight ahead,

There is a bathroom filled with steam,

Over there, a pink and dripping body,

Soft feet pad on the tiles,

Plump and gorged on piping hot liquid,

I can see twelve windowsills peering back at me.

I am a zoo attraction, am I not?

Maybe someone could jab me, swift in the side,

Wake me up for kicks,

Watch me weep and rub my head.

But as long as you can’t hear me,

Your conscience is so clear,

I could dance but I fear you would remain,

Unaffected, which would be so hurtful to endure,

(Though I do endure it daily).

So I will eat my morning grains,

Ignore any growing pains,

Watch for a while the Time of others,

Spent as though hamsters in cages.

Why is it you are always alone by your windows?

You are like me,

 Perhaps you all watch us when we are sleeping,

The people who watch through windows,

Who dream in their slumbers?

Of realities they foresee with desire,

On the hour of every hour,

Though we are forever weary, so,

We daren’t open our eyes.

However this could just be me,

And no one is watching.

Perhaps these figures I see crossing from window

To window, are mere spectres?

I check in a mirror to see if I am there,

I am, just as always, until

A figure passes in front of my reflection. 

I think I should put some short stories on here instead.

Also, I don't recall typing out the last entry. Humiliating turn of events when your drunk misgivings are merely writing a blog entry rather than having one night stands or breaking everything you own.